


Dogs of the Mind

by Fanfic_For_The_Void



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Dates, Garak has anxiety, Julian is a sweetie, M/M, You know what so is garak, don't worry this has a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_For_The_Void/pseuds/Fanfic_For_The_Void
Summary: It's Garak's first official date with Julian. He should be overjoyed, but all he can do is worry.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64





	Dogs of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who struggles with anxiety... *waves hands vaguely*

Garak resisted the urge to press his fingers to the underside of his ocular ridge. The headache that resided there and at the back of his neck was mild, but annoyingly persistent. Really it was his own fault, spending the whole day worrying.

As he smiled at the doctor beside him, his mind was in two places. One was frankly scintillating with joy. This was no ordinary meal they shared. It was what humans called a “date”. Despite being much less formal than any Cardassian courtship ritual, it was more than Garak had dared to hope for after all this time. Instead of seated across from him at the Replimat, Julian was squeezed in beside him at a booth in the Klingon restaurant. There was adequate room on the opposite bench, but that wasn’t the point of a date.

The second place his mind occupied, it occupied unwillingly. When Julian had ‘asked him out’, Garak had been thrilled, ecstatic and more than a little surprised (he had made an executive decision to let some of that show, just this once), but as the hours ticked down to this significant dinner, Garak’s stomach had begun to churn, and rosy hope turned to a curdled feeling of dread, for no reason he could even place. This was nothing new to him. Even as he sat, laughing at a truly delightful anecdote Julian shared, he felt ill.

Since childhood, Garak had worried, not that you would know it. It had long since been drilled into him that such weakness was deadly. Your hands must not shake. Your words must not stumble. Your enemy must not know your vulnerability. 

Garak could face a charging riding hound, or a Federation firing squad without true fear, but this? He was being known. Julian sat with him, courting him. Any wrong word or misplaced sentiment could send him running. But what if it didn’t? What if Julian stayed? What if Julian kissed him? Invited him back to his quarters?

Oh, how Garak  _ wanted _ . This was every idle fantasy about Julian, made real. The man was beside him, running a hand up his arm with eyes full of a devastating mixture of innocent hope and desire. Elim took in a shaky breath. Julian was so close, and leaning in closer under the low lighting. The anxiety that had made a home in his stomach writhed in protest. The headache behind his eye stabbed.

“Excuse me,” Garak gasped, slipping out of the booth. Choosing an outside seat with ease of escape was an Obsidian Order habit, one that served him well in this moment. Julian’s beautiful face was already pinched into a frown, but it was too late to turn back now.

Footsteps barely restrained to a swift walk, Garak fled the restaurant. Taking a sharp turn from the doors, he stopped a couple meters away from the entrance, his back pressed against the promenade wall. He let out a breath. Shaky. The anxiety was now blended with bitter guilt.

Oh, he was never lucky. Julian rounded the corner a second later, brow furrowed in concern. 

“Garak, is everything alright?” Bashir asked, placing a hand on his arm.

“I do apologize my dear.” Garak allowed himself a long blink, closing out the world for a moment. “You must allow me to explain my rudeness.” The following words stuck in his throat. This would be the part where Julian started running.

“What is it?” Julian prompted over his silence, ever so gently.

“I’m afraid this is all a bit too much for me,” Garak answered with a dry smile.

“Oh.” Julian looked down, arm retreating to his side. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong, I guess I just got over excited and-”

“No, no, darling, you were wonderful. I’m afraid this is my own issue,” Garak said. He wouldn’t lose Julian to his own fears. Not now. “I simply worry too much. This has been quite a change in our relationship, and I found myself working it to death in my mind. It’s quite ironic that after years of wanting you, I panic, thinking that this is all happening too fast.” Elim smiled ruefully. He should have known that he wasn’t getting out of this without hemorrhaging some truths.

“Oh, Garak. I’m sorry.” Julian’s face was open and honest. “We can go as slow as you like, or call this whole thing off, if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“I have no intention of calling this off. I just might need some time.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Julian said with a tentative grin.

“Would you mind if we relocated to my quarters? I don’t mean to take you to bed, but I believe I would fare better in a more private location.” Garak requested. It needled at him to impose, but anything less would have been self sabotage.

Julian laughed a little. “That sounds great.”

As the pair made their way to quieter parts of the station, some of the tension in Garak’s shoulders bled away. By the time he reached his quarters, he was even explaining the intricacies of a new dress design he had drafted. Julian was keeping a distance from him that was chaste, but a little closer than friendly, so really, nothing different from what they had been doing for years.

As Garak’s fingers punched in the access code, they barely wavered. Slipping his shoes off by the door, with Julian following suit was different. His mind wandered, imagining this becoming a regular occurrence. Settling onto his couch, back pressed into its plush corner, Garak compacted himself into a simple cross legged pose.

Julian joined him, his weight upsetting the equilibrium of the couch.

“Thank you for being patient with me,” Elim said, readjusting.

“Of course.” Julian’s warm smile was more soothing than any cup of red leaf tea. The knot in Garak’s stomach was loosening. With steadier hands, he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around himself.

“You look cozy,” Julian grinned. “Do you mind if I replicate myself another blanket?

Garak waved a hand, though the effect was rather diminished by the fact that his arms were still within his cocoon. “A waste of energy, this one is large enough to share.” 

“Is that so?” Julian asked, eyebrows raised playfully.

In response, Garak opened up the blanket. Yes. Now he could ignore the foolish urge to shy away. His brief, painful moment of doubt was eclipsed almost immediately as Julian moved closer without hesitation. He wrapped a blanket covered arm around the man.

Oh, stars. Julian was looking up at him for confirmation as he leaned back, resting his head on Elim’s chest. 

“I was right,” Julian hummed. “Cozy.”

Oh, this felt  _ right _ . Elim encircled Julian with both arms, pulling him closer. Under the blanket, a hand fumbled for his.

“Thank you,” Garak said. He meant it for everything. “I made this blanket myself during a slow week at the shop.”

“Mmm.” Julian’s vocalization was soft.

Garak sighed. He was going to kiss Julian. It was inevitable. As much as it pained him to throw caution to the winds like this, he grasped Bashir’s shoulders, turning him slightly. Met with Julian’s honest gaze, his fear could find no foothold.

Leaning in, he pressed his lips to warm human ones. Brief, chaste, but a start. 

Pulling back and opening his eyes, Elim was wholly unprepared for the look of delight on Bashir’s face.

“How are you feeling?” 

Ah, blindsided again by Julian’s endless kindness.

“Better,” Garak answered honestly. He was not perfect, nor would he ever be, but for now, the beasts of his mind were back in their kennels. His headache had even faded some. “I don’t mean completely. I will always… worry.” Worry was not the right word. It was far too small. Julian’s beautiful mouth curved into a half smile.

“I understand.”

When the dogs next came baying at Garak’s heels, he would not face them alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this after giving myself an anxiety headache, and in a poetic twist of fate, writing cleared it up a bit!


End file.
